


Sour Air

by Drunk_Idjit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Low Self Esteem, M/M, Negative Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Will Add More Later, drinking as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drunk_Idjit/pseuds/Drunk_Idjit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s not trying to commit suicide, yeah he kinda hates his life and all that but he’s not trying to actually kill himself. Castiel sees a man who looks like he’s about to jump off a bridge and decides he’s going to try and save him. Instead they both fall into the icy water below, thanks to Castiel’s “help,” and Dean ends up having to save the man that almost killed them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new at this. If you see something that needs to be corrected or have any helpful criticisms let me know!
> 
> Title based off a quote from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath:  
> "Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street cafe in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air."

_I’m going to kill myself_. It’s the phrase that has been stuck on repeat in his brain for, fuck...years now. He doesn't actually want to kill himself. He’s not suicidal. But still his own personal mantra just goes on and on everyday. Some days it just pops into his head after doing something particularly stupid. Some days it’s just playing in the background as he goes about his daily activities. He can't push it out. It’s just there and he lives with it. He knows, even after the bad days, that he won't actually do it. But it’s exhausting, trying to push the thoughts away as they wash over him, bathing him in self loathing and doubt. Reminding himself that _no, you're not going to kill yourself. Don't listen to the stupid voice. Yes I know it’s my stupid voice but just… stop, okay?_ He was definitely not going to kill himself.

 

So why he was standing over the edge of an empty bridge, looking into the water below him, which was pretty dark and terrifying, he had no idea. He was not. going. to. kill. himself. But maybe… he could scare himself a little? Maybe call his own bluff? _You hear that brain? I’m not scared of death. I just don't want it. I’m staring at it right in the fucking face and I’m telling it to fuck off. So can you just, quit with the flirting with death thing? Thanks._

 

He dangles a foot over the edge. He’s not scared. He’s...numb. For how long? Who knows. Who cares? Nobody. No, that’s not true. His brother, Sammy, he cares. He’s the reason Dean never even entertained the idea of offing himself. Not gonna leave him behind to pick up the pieces. It’s reassuring and suffocating at the same time.

 

He lets go of the railing behind him. Just for a second. Leaning over the edge precariously before reaching back to grab the railing again. Flirting with death. He giggles to himself. He’s always been shit at flirting. He giggles again. Can’t stop. He realizes he’s hysterical. He might be going crazy. He chews on his lower lip as he contemplates going back over the railing to safety. He was getting kinda comfortable here. Too comfortable.

 

He leaned over to peer into the abyss one more time. His arms stretched painfully behind him, tightly gripping the ice cold railing. Goodbye death, not this time.

 

“Wait, stop!”

 

The panicked voice was coming from behind him and he snapped his head up to find its owner, losing his grip in surprise and scrambling to pull his weight back onto the edge, fingers latching on to the railing with a vice like grip. How ironic would it be if he ended up dying because some asshole decided to try to save him?

 

“Please, you don't have to do this.” The voice, now right behind him, was calmer now. Soothing. It’s okay, he just had to explain to the guy that he wasn't really planning to jump. He was just… playing chicken with the suicidal part of his brain. Ok, it was dumb. Maybe he really was in denial.

 

He almost forgot about the guy standing behind him, who was still speaking to him in a smooth, hushed tone. Something about turning around? Climb back over? Give me your hand? It was hard to concentrate on the words themselves and he just let himself get lulled by the voice instead. It felt rich and warm and almost felt like a blanket over his cold skin. When did it get so cold? He hadn't felt it all night but now the bitter chill of the wind nipped at his face and his muscles were twitching underneath his skin. How long had he even been there? Hours?

 

In a haze he noticed the guy standing next to him. He must have climbed over the railing too. Well that was dumb. There was being helpful and there was, well… being suicidal.

 

“You're not jumping.”

 

Dean just stared at him numbly.

 

“Come on, climb over with me. You're not going to die tonight.”

 

Of course he wasn’t going to jump. He wasn't planning on it. This guy was making an awful lot of assumptions about the situation. He frowned in response.

 

“Please, we can talk about this.” He reached out with one of his hands slowly, the way you would with a scared animal and Dean let out another giggle at the idea of himself as a cat who managed to get to the top of a tree but then was too scared to come down and had to be rescued by the sexy firefighter. He couldn't stop giggling.

 

Out of all the people that could have tried to be his hero tonight he got the one who looked like a damn angel with his wide eyes of dark pools of...blue? Was that blue? It was hard to see them properly in the dark. He glanced back down to the water below him to compare. Not the same murky color. It was more like... starlit sky. Like the kind you see when you leave the city and the stars don’t have to compete to stand out. His hair was dark and wild, wind whipping it in all directions. He was much more prepared for the cold in his tan trenchcoat than Dean was in his t-shirt and jeans. His eyes immediately went back to the guys face and landed at his lips. Thick, pink lips that would look so much better if they were being used for something other than yelling at him right now. Why was the guy even yelling? Oh yeah. He really is the worst at being saved.

 

“I’m going to help you get back over the railing, okay?” He nodded, not really sure what the guy was going on about. He was planning on going back before the guy had even come over. He wondered if this was the kind of situation where you got to kiss the hero after he saves you. He wouldn’t mind getting a taste of those lips, wrapped up in those strong arms that were...hey, wrapping themselves around him right now!

 

He jolted in surprise and lost contact with the railing. Bad move. How bad a move, he realized, when they were both rushing towards the water at breakneck speed hitting the water with enough force to knock all the air out of his lungs, the cold of the water slamming into him like a fucking truck. Like a fucking truck made out of fucking ice. It was a hell of a wake up call but at least he wasn't dead.

 

He started swimming to shore but the realization hit him that his hero, the one who almost killed him, was not swimming along with him. “Fuck!” He dove underwater, eyes stinging as he scanned the suffocating abyss all around him. Too dark. He couldn’t see shit. _FuckFuckFuck_. Now the guy was going to die and it was all his fault. He reached out frantically, swimming in all directions, lungs burning for air until his fingertips grazed something. A trenchcoat. He grabbed at it with both hands, feet kicking out as he propelled himself in what he hoped was the right direction. If he ended up going deeper instead they were both dead.

 

It turned out he was going the right way when he pushed past the surface, swallowing lungfuls of air, heaving and wheezing through the sharp pain as he kicked backwards holding trenchcoat guy tightly in his arms, lungs burning, eyes burning, legs burning, everything on fire as he hauled the guy onto the safety of land.

 

Once he got the guy sprawled out on the ground he leaned over his face to check to see if he was breathing. Nope. Fucking great. His fingers clamped over the guys nose and he put his mouth over the other guys, forcing air into his lungs. What was the next part? Damn he wished he knew more about CPR than what they showed in movies. He put his hands on the guys chest, under his ribcage and pushed down. _One. Two. Three. Four_.  He went to go breathe into the guys mouth again but he had started coughing and sputtering, water trickling out of the side of his mouth and Dean had to roll him on his side so that he could cough it all out.

 

“Hey man, are you ok?”

 

The guy let out a few more wet sounding coughs before he gasped out “Am I ok? Fuck you, you almost got me killed!” Well that was a much shittier thanks than Dean was expecting.

 

“Excuse me but I believe I was the one who saved you so….” he trailed off as the cute, yet douchey stranger gave him a stern look.

 

“I believe I was the one trying to do the saving around here.”

 

Dean scoffed at that. “Yeah heck of a job you did there pal. By the way, I didn't need saving. You’re the one who went and got us both thrown off the bridge.”

 

The guys very kissable mouth gaped open and his eyebrows furrowed angrily and oh man he looked like he was going to unleash some hell but then his face softened and one side of his mouth quirked up in a tiny smile. “Well I’ll make sure not to try to save your ungrateful ass again in the future.”

 

He wondered how long after almost killing a guy was appropriate before you could start hitting on him. It was probably too soon. Yeah, too soon. “Look man I’m sorry, can I uh.. get you a coffee or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Dumb. So dumb. He was a dumbass. The guy cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes as if to size up exactly how much of a dumbass Dean was.

 

“I would prefer to get home and change into something perhaps a little warmer and dryer. Thank you.” Hmm.. ok. Well there goes that plan.

 

“Could I at least give you a ride?” The other man seemed to think about it for a second but then nodded.

 

“Yes, I’ll accept a ride. I’d rather not walk the rest of the way like this” He smiled sheepishly while holding out his arms showing off his drenched trenchcoat.

Dean returned his smile and they grudgingly made their way back up to Dean’s car in silence.

 

When they got to the car the other man stripped out of his trenchcoat and they both jumped inside, Dean turning on the heater as quickly as possible as they both shivered and waited for the car to warm up. “I’m Dean by the way” he said through chattering teeth. “Castiel” the other man replied, holding out a shivering hand. “Nice to meet you Castiel” he said, shaking the offered hand.

 

Dean drove into the street, turning on his headlights and putting the music at a low enough volume to have a conversation. Not that they actually talked much though, with just terse instructions for where they were going and conversations of the weather peppering the silence as Dean drove.

 

They pulled up into the driveway of a quaint home in a quiet neighborhood. Dean looked over at Castiel, unsure of what to say. _Thanks for trying to save my life?_ That sounded dumb.

 

“Thank you for the ride,” Cas said, after a minute of sitting in the car in silence.

 

“Yeah, least I could do” Dean mumbled.

 

“Look, I know this is kind of prying and I don't want to overstep my boundaries but… do you have anyone to go home to or maybe someone that can keep you company tonight? I just don't think you should be alone after what happened.”

 

Dean chewed on his lip, unsure of how to answer. The truth was that he had no one, really. Not anyone he could call to come keep him company anyway. But Castiel didn’t need to know that. And if he hadn't lost his wallet in the fall earlier, noticing it as he got into the car and felt the empty space in his back pocket, he probably would have just picked out a cheap motel and gotten some much needed sleep. But as of now, it looked like he was in for a night of shivering in wet clothes in the backseat of his car for the rest of the freezing night. His first instinct was to just flash the other man a smile and say he would be fine and be on his miserable way, wishing someone would just notice, for once, that he was full of shit.

 

Dean took a deep breath, “Nah I..uhh… don’t know anybody here, just rolled into town today actually. Was gonna get a motel room but I umm… lost my wallet back at the bridge there…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that Dean. Can I offer you..” Castiel said reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet.

 

“Aww geez man, naww...don’t!” Dean exclaimed, reaching out and stopping Castiel’s hand from reaching into the wallet, immediately pulling it back when their eyes both snapped up to look at each other. “That’s not.. that’s not what I was asking.” He was biting his lip again, worried that maybe he should just take the money and not spend the night in misery over his pride. Nervously he asked, “maybe I could just, do you think I could throw my clothes in your dryer really quick, so I don't freeze my ass off when I sleep in my car…”

 

Castiel's eyes widened and he looked absolutely appalled. “Sleep in your c- you’ll freeze anyway!” He shook his head and looked at Dean with a pained face. “You know what.. no. You can stay here tonight. I insist.”

 

Dean started to protest but Castiel stopped him, “Dean I’m sorry but I can’t, in good conscience, let you sleep in your car alone tonight in this cold, especially knowing it was my fault.”

 

“It’s not your fault, you were trying to help!” Dean protested.

 

“Yes,” Castiel laughed, “and we see how well that worked out for both of us.” They both smiled at each other for a bit too long and Dean looked away shyly. “It’s fine though, really.”  

 

Dean nodded and they both made their way out of the car and into Castiel’s home. Dean wasn’t sure what he expected but mismatched furniture and clutter in every corner was not it. He laughed to himself, it was actually kind of comfortable. It felt lived in.

 

Castiel came out of a room and handed Dean a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that ended up fitting a bit too snugly Dean noticed as he came out of the bathroom later, raising his arms and watching the shirt ride up on his stomach. “Oh,” Castiel said as he passed by with a blanket and a pillow - clad in his own sleepwear, “Sorry, I uh...I can find a bigger shirt if you need..”

 

“Nah this is cool,” Dean waved his hand casually with a laugh, “Not a problem.”

 

“Huh,” Castiel answered slowly, looking away quickly when he realized he had been staring at Dean’s chest and arms, much more defined now in the tight fitting shirt. “Well I uhh… yeah. Here’s a blanket and pillow” Castiel held them up in his hands as if to show Dean that he did indeed have them. “So, if you don’t mind sleeping on an uncomfortable futon….”

 

Dean smiled at him, “What, you kiddin’? I appreciate just having a warm place to sleep.”

 

Castiel dropped the blanket and pillow on the couch and, with Dean’s help, converted it into a bed for him to sleep in.

 

On his way back from putting both of their dripping wet clothes in the washer, Castiel asked “Are you hungry? I could make some dinner while the clothes are in the wash…?”

 

Dean looked embarrassed and ducked his head, “Nah, please don’t worry about me really, I’m fine. I mean, I don't need all this…” he trailed off.

 

“Please, it would make me feel better. Is pasta okay?” Castiel asked expectantly.

 

“More than okay,” Dean answered enthusiastically. “You know you really don't have to..”

 

“I want to,” Castiel said over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen and started preparing his ingredients for dinner.

 

Dean stood around the living room awkwardly, pacing around and taking a closer look at the room. It wasn’t dirty at all, just cluttered. Clothes strewn around, papers, pens, but mostly books. Like, a ton of books. “Man, you have like, a shit ton of books.” Dean said with a laugh, loudly enough for Castiel to hear him.

 

“Yeah,” Dean heard from the kitchen. “It’s kind of my dream to have a library, but I never got around to actually getting enough bookshelves and I just kept getting more and more so now they’re kind of just strewn haphazardly around the living room.” Castiel said sheepishly.

 

“Hey Vonnegut!” Dean exclaimed, picking up a copy of Slaughterhouse 5.

 

“You like Vonnegut?” Castiel asked.

 

“Well yeah. I mean, I don’t read much but my brother tried to get me into it a few years ago and Vonnegut was something I really liked. Also Palahniuk, though I haven't read too much of his recent stuff. Loved Fight Club though.” Dean said excitedly.

 

“Yeah,” Castiel replied. “That was a good one. Palahniuk was always a little crude for me but I enjoyed it nonetheless. If you like those two you would probably also enjoy Christopher Moore.”

 

“Yeah who’s that?” Dean asked.

 

“I’ve got a few of his books if you wanna borr-”  Castiel stopped himself for a second before asking, “Sorry, I uh.. how long do you plan on staying in town?”

 

Dean sat down, flipping through the book in his hand. “I’m not actually sure. I usually just stroll in looking for work and if I find something I stay for a while and if I don’t I just move on to the next place.”

 

“I see,” Castiel answered thoughtfully. “Well if you stay, you're more than welcome to borrow my books anytime. I mean.. I uhh.. wouldn’t mind staying in touch if you’re ok with that..” Castiel said shyly.

 

“Yeah, I wouldn't mind that,” Dean responded as casually as he could, trying not to let his own negative thoughts start flooding his brain. _He doesn't really like you. He’s just being nice. You're not gonna see him again after tonight. Don't get too comfortable, you don't get to have friends._

 

“So what kind of work do you do?” Castiel asked, cutting through Dean’s thoughts.

 

“Mechanic stuff mostly, a little bit of construction. I’m pretty good with my hands so pretty much anything that needs fixing or building I can usually do.” Dean said, trying to push away the hollow feeling that was threatening to take over him. If he let it get to him he knew he would shut down and stop being able to interact. And there was no way this guy would let him stay if he started acting that way.

 

“Oh yeah?” Castiel said, voice raising a bit. “That’s actually pretty impressive. I’ve always been pretty terrible with that. I tend to be more prone to break things than fix them.” Castiel said with a laugh.

 

Dean laughed along with him. He could see the guy being clumsy after that botched life saving back at the bridge.

 

“So what do you do?” Dean asked curiously.

 

“I’m an English professor over at the University.”

 

“Oh man, a smart guy, huh?” Dean teased, although he was kind of impressed.

 

“I guess you could say that,” Castiel huffed a laugh. “You said your brother got you into reading? What does he do?”

 

Dean sat up straight, talking about Sammy always made him feel proud, mostly because it wasn't something he could really feel for himself. “Oh he’s in school. Gonna be a lawyer. My little brother was always the genius of the family,” Dean said deprecatingly. “Though you couldn’t really call him little. Few years ago he hit a major growth spurt, now he towers over me.”

 

“Oh wow, you're pretty tall already. He must be a monster!”

 

“Yeah well, he didn't earn the nickname moose for nothin’” Dean said, nostalgia hitting him in a way that was almost painful.

 

Castiel walked in with a chuckle. “Hey could you watch the food? It’s just simmering for now but I’m just going to throw the clothes in the dryer.”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Dean got up and made his way to the kitchen. The food smelled delicious. He couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. It was strange, how absolutely normal this all felt. Being in someone’s home, doing laundry and cooking dinner. Having a conversation with someone who was actually interested in what he had to say. _You don't deserve this. This isn't you. You don't get to have this_. “Shut up” he mumbled to himself.

 

“Well food should be done,” Castiel rubbed his hands excitedly as he made his way back into the kitchen. Dean’s head popped up and he gave Castiel a small smile, again trying to pull himself out of his thoughts.

 

Castiel heaped a healthy portion of chicken alfredo onto two plates, “Feel free to help yourself to something to drink. I have soda and beer in the fridge.”

 

“Yeah sure,” He said, opening the fridge. “You want a beer too?” Dean asked.

 

“Yes, please.” Castiel made his way to the living room with both plates, putting them down on a small table in the living room. “Sorry, there’s paperwork all over the kitchen table. I tend to eat over here most of the time.” He gestured to the table and then shrugged apologetically.  

 

“This is perfect.” Dean replied, sitting at the futon that had been set up for him while Castiel sat in the couch beside it. “So,” he grabbed his beer and popped the top, Castiel mimicking the action and taking a sip from his beer as well, “Have you read all these books?” he asked as his eyes scanned the room.

 

Castiel laughed at that, tilting his head back and showing off a gummy smile that reached his eyes. “It was the plan, but at some point it kind of just ran away from me. My brother, Gabriel, lived with me for a while and he was always bringing home random books he thought I would like. I still remember one day when he came home and yelled ‘Cassie look I got 30 books for 3 dollars at a used bookstore that went out of business!’” Castiel mimed holding a large box. “He and my sister Anna walked in with 2 big boxes and tossed them in my living room. Since then I’ve just lost track of how many books I have or which I've read.”

 

Dean grinned at that image. “So a brother and a sister, huh?”

 

“Oh yeah. Little sister Anna and big brother Gabriel. I also have 3 older brothers - Lucifer, Michael, and Raphael. We aren’t very close though.”

 

“Damn!” Dean’s eyes widened with surprise. “Wait, did you say Lucifer?!”

 

Castiel smiled at him, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Yeah, we call him Luke. My parents are very religious, we’re all named after angels.”

 

“Angels, huh? Interesting.” Dean said, “So, the angel Castiel” He raised an eyebrow and gave Castiel an expectant look.

 

Castiel blushed, “after the angel Cassiel, actually. You can call me Cas though, I’d prefer it.”

 

“Cas, yeah that’s cool. So uh...are you religious then?” Dean asked. “Sorry if that’s too personal” he cut in quickly, hoping not to get into dangerous conversational topics.

 

“No, its ok,” Cas replied, “I'm not religious, technically…. though I do consider myself to be spiritual. When I was younger I went through a bit of an existential crisis of sorts. I decided to study other types of religions and took it upon myself to read as many  religious texts as I could. Starting with the Bible, Old and New Testament, front to back…”

 

“Sounds boring,” Dean interjected.

 

“It was.” Cas replied with a chuckle. “Then I read the Torah and the Qur’an, after that I moved onto Eastern religions, which I enjoyed the most- Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism- and I studied a few African and Caribbean religions as well.”

 

“Wow,” Dean said, obviously impressed. “So what did you get out of all of that?”

 

“Well, pretty much I believe that there is a higher power out there, of some sort at least. I don’t know if I believe in just, you know, a god specifically, but I believe that you find your own God in the world around you. For me, God is in the trees and the flowers, God is in the bees and the things that we build, God is in people, and I feel like that is enough. I think that what really matters is just doing as much good and as little harm to others and to ourselves as possible, and that what happens in the afterlife isn't really as important as what we do here. So just, live your life, enjoy it, and everything else is just...you know, details, I guess” Cas finished, waving his hand noncommittally, as if he thought maybe what he said was silly.

 

Dean thought it was anything but. “Damn,” he said in awe, “I never thought about it that way. It’s kinda...nice.

 

“What about you?” Cas prompted.

 

“Oh, umm….. I’m an atheist. Religion was never a big thing for me. My brother still believes in that stuff, but I just…. I can't believe in a god that knows about all the terrible things in the world and doesn't do anything about it, ya know? And I mean, all the shit people do in the name of religion, it’s sick. If there is a God, he’s got a lot of explaining to do.”  He said all this a little more bitterly than he meant to.

 

“Yes, I can understand your issues,” Cas said thoughtfully.

 

They spent the next couple of minutes eating together in silence.

 

“This was really good” Dean said around his last mouthful.

 

“Thanks. Gabe is actually the one who taught me how to cook. I was a disaster of fast food and take out before he moved in. Desserts were his specialty though,” he grinned.

 

Yeah?” Dean stood up with his plate and empty beer, making his way to the kitchen with Cas following behind. “I’m a sucker for pie. Get it at every diner I hit up. Haven't had homemade pie since I was a kid though.” There was a hint of sadness in his tone but he tried to cover it up with another smile. He threw his beer in the trash and made his way over to the sink.

 

“Well I can’t say I’m great at making pie, but I’m sure Gabe can show me sometime. If you..uh..you know” Cas stammered and blushed and Dean found it cute. The negative thoughts continued to bubble to the surface but it was easier for him to push them away now. He didn't care that his low self esteem told him nobody could be interested in him because here was proof. Hot guy. Interested. _Right?_ Just push the negative thoughts away.

 

“Oh no, don't you dare! I’ll take care of the dishes!” Cas dove towards the sink and took the plate out of his hand.

 

“Oh no way, you cooked and really, it’s the least I can do”

 

“Exactly you’re a guest, I got this.” Dean pouted and Cas gave him a warm smile, “fine, how about I wash and you dry?”

 

“Deal,” Dean smiled as Cas handed him a dish towel and got to work on the dishes.

 

“So, your brother moved out then?” Dean said, making more conversation as Cas handed him a plate to dry.

 

“Yes, he only stayed for a short while until he could get his own place. It was nice to have the company but, honestly, I was a bit relieved when he left. Gabe can be… a handful.”

 

Dean laughed at Cas’s expression. Being an older brother, he could probably guess what caused it. He really liked how casually everything seemed to flow with them. Almost as if Cas didn’t have to talk Dean down from trying to kill himself just a few hours earlier. He shook himself out of his thoughts again, focusing on the conversation. On drying dishes. On the soft fingers that brushed against his when Cas passed him something. There was a spark. At least he thought there was. But he didn't want to ruin this. Not like he ruined everything else.

 

Cas dried his hand and looked expectantly at Dean. He looked tired. Dean probably looked worse. “Getting late,” Cas said lamely.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They stood around awkwardly for a little while. Cas made his way to the living room, “Well, let me know if you need anything…”

 

“Look I umm… I know this is gonna sound a little needy but...could you maybe stay, watch some tv with me or something? I kinda don't wanna be alone” Dean mumbled that last bit, staring down at the floor. He felt so pathetic and he knew he shouldn't keep asking for more after everything Cas had offered him. But he really didn't think he could handle sitting alone in the dark and letting his negative thoughts keep him up all night.

 

Luckily, Cas just smiled at him and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

 

He let out a small sigh of relief and plopped down on the futon, sitting indian style and leaning against the wall behind him. Cas turned on the tv and flipped it to some late night talk show. Then, he surprisingly crawled in next to Dean and pulled the blanket over them. It was getting harder for him to convince himself that Cas wasn’t interested and really he was surprised the nerdy looking professor was being so forward with him. Or maybe this was just how he normally was.

 

Cas must have noticed his nervousness because he casually reached an arm over Dean's shoulder and pulled him in closer. “Is this ok?” Cas asked him softly. He turned his head, Cas’s face just a few inches away from his. This close he could verify that yes, Cas’s eyes definitely were blue. Not the dark blue he thought he had seen earlier on the bridge, but a bright blue that made his stare even more intense.

 

He nodded and placed his head on Cas’s shoulder, relishing in the deep rumble of his laugh when he found something funny. Dean tried to pay attention to the show but he was, understandably, distracted. Especially when he felt Cas’s long fingers softly running through his hair and brushing against the top of his ear.

 

When he finally worked up the courage, Dean let his fingertips skim underneath the hem of Cas’s shirt to trail lightly on his stomach. His hand wandered up the smooth planes of Cas’s chest, exploring tentatively and hoping he wasn’t reading into this the wrong way. Intimacy, affection...those things he wasn’t really good at. Sex though. That he understood. That was something that made sense.

 

He let his hand wander lower, down to the waistband of Cas’s sweatpants. He let a finger skim underneath, waiting for a reaction. Cas continued to run his hand through Dean’s hair, dropping his fingers lower to caress his neck.

 

With the sweatpants Cas was wearing, Dean didn’t have to guess at what Cas was thinking. An impressive outline formed in the front of Cas’s sweatpants as Dean’s fingers continued to dip lower, playing with the little curls of hair he found there. Deciding to just go for it, he grinned when he heard Cas gasp at the feeling of Dean slipping his whole hand down the front of the sweatpants to run a finger down the length of his dick.

 

Cas made no move, other than to continue his petting, so Dean took it as an approval and wrapped his hand around Cas’s length. He pumped slowly up and down, twisting up at the head and running his finger over the slit, smirking to himself when he felt the precum bead up at the tip. He used the slick to run his fingers around the swollen head, revelling in the small gasps and hitched breath coming from above him.

 

He was hard now. Really hard. He imagined what Cas’s dick would feel like in his mouth. What kind of sounds Cas would make when he sucked him down all the way. Whether he would lay back and let Dean work him with his mouth and tongue and lips or if he would grab Dean roughly and fuck his mouth until he came down Dean’s throat. Unable to wait any longer, he grabbed the waistband of Cas’s sweatpants and pulled down low enough to free his cock, which sprang up, hard and red, head glistening with precum and Dean’s mouth watered at how damn pretty Cas’s cock was. He grasped it at the base and bent down to lick the head, tongue halfway out of his mouth when suddenly Cas grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him up.

 

“Wait, Dean…” Cas’s voice was gravelly and he sounded like it took some effort to get those two words out. Dean’s heart still dropped all the way to the pit of his stomach and his hard on instantly died. What was he thinking? Now Cas was gonna kick him out and all because he was stupid enough to think Cas actually wanted him. But he didn't even wanna fuck him. Not even a blowjob. _Fuck I’m pathetic._

 

Soft hands cradled his head and tilted his face up. “Dean, I’m sorry….it’s not that I don’t….” He sighed and Dean looked up at him expectantly. Cas lowered himself and gently placed a kiss on Dean’s forehead. His brows crinkled in confusion and he sat back up, straightening himself out.

 

Cas took a moment to adjust himself properly and started again. “Look Dean, I know we just met...and it’s been a bit of a crazy night. But I like you. And I don’t want this,” he gestured between them, “to be it between us. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I think maybe sleep is all you should be doing.”

 

Dean chewed on his lip and noded thoughtfully. “Yeah Cas, that’s fine. I’m sorry I….”

  
“No, don’t apologize. You didn't do anything wrong.” He gave Dean a quick peck on the lips and Dean smiled shyly, head buzzing and feeling slightly delirious from having Cas’s soft lips on his. Affection, it really was kinda nice. “Come on, you look like you’re about to pass out any second now” Cas said with a huffed laugh. He put his arm around Dean’s stomach and dragged them both down on the futon, with Dean cradled in his arms. Dean fell asleep with an arm wrapped around him, the other mans legs tangled with his and a warm breath on his neck, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks, probably months. If he had to describe the feeling later, of being held until he fell asleep, with no expectations, no shame, no guilt. Of being cared for. He would say it felt like home.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's awkward mornings, and then there's awkward morning's with the man you accidentally threw off a bridge and then brought home to snuggle with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this next chapter up, it's in Castiel's POV, which I didn't realize would be harder to get into the groove of, but here it is!
> 
> Any comments, criticisms, etc. are, as always, greatly appreciated! =]

Castiel woke up to a stiff neck and the sound of infomercials. He looked around sleepily and realized he was in his living room, a warm body snoring gently next to him. _Dean_. The memory of the night before rushed into his brain and he had to calm his racing heart when he realized that he spent the night cuddling with a man he had only just met, and in the most peculiar of circumstances.

 

Sleeping, Dean looked a lot more relaxed, the wrinkles in his younger face smoothed by peaceful sleep. He could probably sit there and stare all morning but that would probably fall right into the category of creepy. He managed to climb over his sleeping house guest without waking him and made his way to the bathroom.

 

Dean still wasn’t awake when Cas made his way back, in fact he somehow managed to burrow deeper under the covers after Cas left. He smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee for them.

 

He didn’t really know how he felt about what happened between them. Dean was….attractive, that was a given. But he was also mentally ill and it felt a little selfish to be thinking about him in an inappropriate way after what he had been through, and was probably still going through.

 

He was deep in thought as he took out some ingredients from the fridge and cupboards for breakfast.

 

He recalled a study that he had read back in a sociology class he took in college. Something about misattribution of arousal and how people in a dangerous situation can mistake their feelings of fear for feelings of attraction. He wondered if that’s what was happening between them. Would he have found Dean attractive in a normal setting? Sure he was undeniably good looking, with his expressive green eyes, his full lips, his set jaw and that body…. He didn’t normally go for men who were very built but when he saw the muscles in his chest and arms straining the t-shirt that Castiel had let him borrow, well he had a hard time forming words at the moment. Would Dean have found nerdy college professor Castiel attractive if he just met him under normal circumstances? That, he wasn’t too sure of.

 

In the middle of his first batch of french toast sizzling in the pan, Dean shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and wiping his eyes. Castiel quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts and let his eyes wander up and down Dean’s torso before landing on his face. He looked apprehensive, and Castiel worried that maybe making breakfast was a mistake if the other man had planned on just parting ways immediately. Dean bit his bottom lip worriedly as they stared at each other for what was probably seconds but felt like minutes, but then suddenly Dean gave a small shrug of his shoulders and his face broke out into a wide smile.

 

“Awww man that smells good, what is it?” Dean walked over to the stove, somewhat apprehensively, to stare at the cooking food. He glanced up and Castiel caught his eyes before he cast them downward again.

“French toast, special recipe,” He flipped the pieces onto a nearby plate and grabbed a couple more slices of bread to dip in the egg mixture, “grab yourself some coffee, there’s cream and sugar if you need it.”

 

Dean pulled away for a second, and Castiel tried to keep the disappointment off of his face at the prospect of trying to make awkward morning conversation, hoping he could feign enough nonchalance to make it through breakfast at least, but then he felt Dean pull back in to give him a quick peck on the cheek and every doubt that Cas had immediately dissipated.

 

“Thanks, more of a black coffee guy though. It’s the kick in the ass I need to start my morning.”  He walked over to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup, the smell of freshly brewed coffee intermingling with the smells of cinnamon and french vanilla, and leaned against the counter to tentatively sip at the piping hot drink.

 

“So, any plans for the day?” Castiel flipped his french toast over with a flick of his wrist, casually checking his peripheral to see Dean lift an eyebrow in approval of the move. Cas caught himself before his lips could twitch into a smile.

 

“Probably gonna drive around, see if I can pick up any work. Think I saw a couple body shops on my way into town.”

 

Cas nodded, turning off the stove and putting his breakfast on his plate. “Well I hope you find something, let me know if you need any help.” He continued cleaning up and putting things away before grabbing his mug of coffee, already sweetened with cream and sugar, in one hand, french toast in the other, and indicating for Dean to grab his plate and to follow him out to the living room.

 

He sat down, hoping they could enjoy their breakfast without the night before being brought up but after some noticeably awkward glances his way, Dean spoke up. “Look Cas, I really appreciate everything, I do. But you’ve done enough for me.” A pained look crossed his face, “And I’m so sorry about last night, I really shouldn’t have…”

 

“Dean,” Cas put down his fork and stared into the man’s eyes, shining bright thanks to the morning sun pouring into his kitchen, “I already told you that you did nothing wrong. I did not wish to take advantage of you after such an emotional night. I don't regret anything and I… hope this doesn't cause any awkwardness, I would still like to see you again.” Cas finished timidly.

 

“Yeah uh...okay” Dean breathed out, a crooked, sheepish smile on his face. Cas noticed a blush creep up on his face and he quickly changed the subject, to Cas’s amusement, “hey this french toast is probably the best I’ve ever had, what did you put in these?”

 

He took a bite of his own, chewing with a smug smile on his lips, “the usual- eggs, milk, vanilla extract, cinnamon...I just add a little bit of lemon zest and some nutmeg to the mix. The strawberry syrup might have helped too.”

 

“Let me guess, your brother’s recipe?” Dean said, through a mouthful of food.

 

“Indeed, you should have seen my first try though. I soaked the bread for too long and didn’t cook them all the way through. The end result was just a soggy, eggy mess.” Dean laughed at Castiel’s grimace.

 

They finished their breakfast with light conversation, but they soon realized that they each had to get on with their day. Dean left the room to change into his clean clothes from the previous night, and Castiel stayed behind to clean up around his living room and kitchen.

 

When Dean was ready to leave, Cas walked him towards the door and Dean stepped out of the doorway. “So yeah, thanks again,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Not a problem, oh and hey!” Castiel said, as he dug around in his wallet, “here’s my card, call me sometime, we can meet up for lunch or something.” Castiel felt awkward and nervous, but he really wanted to see Dean again, so it was worth it. He didn't know what he was thinking, he had never been this forward before, but before Dean could answer he closed the space between them and planted a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. Nothing but a quick peck but he felt electricity coarse through his body and when he opened his eyes, wild green eyes were looking into his.

 

Dean smiled and held up the card, sun hitting his face perfectly to highlight the spattering of freckles that littered his nose and cheeks. “Definitely” he walked backwards for a few steps staring at Cas with a cocky grin, and then turned around and got into his car. He looked back one more time at Cas in the doorway before turning the car on and heading out.

 

Cas walked back in numbly. Now that Dean was gone the house felt empty and he just felt… alone. He sighed and shook his head. He was letting the other man get to him. He had papers to grade.

 

By the time noon came around he had gotten through less than half of the stack and spent most of his time daydreaming about Dean. He knew he was a hopeless romantic, had been since his first boyfriend in kindergarten. And by boyfriend he meant the boy he followed around with flowers and presents and tried to give kisses to until the teachers called his parents and he learned that boys don’t like boys, they like girls. A lesson he internalized until freshman year of college.

 

Castiel sighed, he really hated revisiting those memories. When he rediscovered his “love for boys” he ended up reverting to that 5 year old who fell in love instantly and whose heart was easily crushed. His long list of previous passionate, but ultimately destructive, relationships proved that.

 

He pushed his chair back and stood up, “I’m not gonna get any more work done.” He shook his head, mumbling and pulling out his cell phone

 

“Hello” the voice on the other end said.

 

“Hey Anna, wanna grab some lunch? Grading papers is getting to me”

 

“Oh hey Cas, sure. Wanna try that little French place that just opened?”

 

“That sounds great, Meg with you?”

 

“Of course.” Another voice could be heard in the background, “Is that Clarence? Clarence!”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, “well I’ll see you both there in…. half an hour?”

 

“Sounds good I’ll see you- Meg, stop he’s meeting up with us in a bit!” Castiel pulled the phone away from his ears as the sounds of a scuffle came over the phone.

 

“Castiel you better get your feathery ass over here so I can give you a big ol’ kiss you little fucker! Hey-”

 

“Jesus, Meg. See you in a bit, Cas.” Castiel heard some more scuffling and bickering before the line clicked.

 

Those two. Anna used to be as quiet and shy as Cas was, when she was younger. Introducing her to Meg was the catalyst that brought out this whole new person in her. She had that effect on people. She had a more dramatic effect on Cas, as she was the one who made him realize that the repressed Catholic school boy hiding so far in the closet he was still hiding from himself was “100% queer as hell”, as she put it. She was his best friend but when she met Anna the two became inseparable. If he didn’t know any better, he would think they were a couple, rather than best friends...most people did.

 

As soon as he threw on some clothes, did a quick shave, and fixed up his perpetually messy bedhead, he headed out the door for the short walk to the new cafe he had told Anna was opening earlier that week.  

 

\--------------------

 

“There’s just absolutely no way, he has freakin’ superpowers! He can fly, he has super strength...heat vision, Meg. He can melt Batman before he could even get close to him!”

 

“So what? Yeah he has superpowers but Batman is rich! That’s pretty much a superpower in the human world. Superman is, what? A reporter? Batman is a fucking genius and Superman can’t even get a decent job!”

 

“How is that even relevant? And Lex Luthor is also a rich genius and he can’t kill Superman!”

 

“Anna, I swear I don't even know why you’re arguing with me, Batman already beat Superman. It’s canon!”

 

“Not my canon!”

 

Cas heard the voices growing louder and louder as he made his way towards the table. He braced himself for the inevitable demand for him to be the tie breaker between yet another ridiculous hypothetical argument between the two. How they could turn everything into a heated debate was beyond him, and he knew better than to take sides after the "was Severus Snape a hero" debate that somehow escalated to a full-fledged food fight that Castiel insisted, with bits of cake in his hair and armed with a blueberry muffin, he was too old to be partaking in.  

 

“Clarence!” Meg jumped up from her seat, hooking her arms around Cas’s shoulders and hopping up to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He rolled his eyes and dramatically wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, his disapproval of Meg’s affection for him another one of their little jokes. Meg knew he wasn’t really annoyed by it, but he couldn’t just encourage her behavior, could he?

 

“Hey bro,” Anna stood up to give him a quick hug.

 

“You know the Doctor could beat them both, right?” Castiel stated, referring to their argument, as he joined them at the table.

 

“David Tennant,” swooned Meg in a sing-song voice, clasping her hands together.

 

“Matt Smith,” swooned Anna, hands over her heart and sighing dramatically.

 

“Tom Baker,” Castiel swooned in imitation of his sister and their friend.

 

They both looked at him quizzically. “You think Tom Baker is the hottest doctor?” Anna asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Well, no…. but he was definitely the best doctor.”

 

“We’re not even going to get into that, but we’re talking hottest here, Cas.” Meg said, as usual trying to draw him into a debate he did not have the energy to get into.

 

“I’m not gonna be the tie breaker between you two, I know better. Besides, Jack Harkness is the hottest on that show, hands down.”

 

Both women looked at him, then looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders nodding in agreement.

 

They ordered their food, Cas trying out a gruyere and ham croissant sandwich that caught his interest.

 

They caught up on what was going on in their lives and, though he tried not to let his mind wander, he was called out on having his head somewhere else. As he divulged the details of his previous night he realized that maybe, this was something he should have kept to himself.

 

“Castiel what the hell is wrong with you? You let a homeless man sleep in your house? A suicidal homeless man?” Anna fumed, face scrunched up in disbelief. “What were you thinking?” Her eyes widened suddenly, “Oh my God, did you fuck him!?”

 

“Go Cas!” Meg interjected, smirking at him in approval.

 

He let out an exasperated sigh, “No I didn't _fuck_ him.” He blushed and a small smile crept up on his face, “we did cuddle though.”

 

Anna threw her hands in the air, “I can't believe you.”

 

“Well I think it’s sweet. And ballsy, not your usual move there, Captain Careful.” Sneered Meg, earning her a rude hand gesture from Cas. “What? I’m proud of you. About time you did something crazy.”

 

“Well I hope it’s worth it when you get home and find out he cleaned out your house. He’s probably going to try to hit you up for money now, you know. And who knows what’s going on in his head? You don't even know who he is, he could be a drug addict!”

 

Meg tsked at her, “you’re too cynical, you know that?” She stuck out her tongue at Anna and Anna stuck her tongue out at her in retaliation.

 

“Well there’s a pretty good chance I’ll never see him again, so it doesn’t matter” His heart felt heavy in his chest, he knew he had a crush and it wasn't worth it to dwell on what could be when the likelihood of it happening was so slim.

 

They seemed to have caught on to his mood because they quickly dropped the subject, finishing their meal with lighter conversation and wishing him goodbye with hugs and kisses, Anna telling him to be careful and Meg departing with a wink and a “get him, tiger.”

  
He made it back to his home and settled back at his kitchen table, ready to tackle _creation stories across cultures_ , the topic of the papers he was struggling to grade for his Theology and Literature course. He got into a good rhythm and the stack had dwindled to a much more manageable size that made him feel optimistic that he would be able to finish before he turned in for the night.

His phone rang, odd for that time of night, especially a number he didn't recognize. He answered, putting the phone up to his ear and heard a familiar voice come through, desperate and panicky, “Cas, oh shit man I’m really sorry to do this to you, I really didn't want to but I didn't know who else to call… I’m kind of in trouble and I....fuck, I’m sorry just….can you pick me up….. please.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to anyrei for motivating me to post my fics and encouraging me through my writing process. You can check out the story I am currently Beta-ing for her, Broken Wing, here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2615630/chapters/5830784
> 
> Thank you for reading ^___^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean just doesn't know how to stay out of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update. I'm pretty much hitting a wall every time I try to write so I'm working on it but it looks like updates might be a bit sporadic...
> 
> Oh and there's a POV change about halfway through and the name of the bar Dean goes to is from an Offspring song.

 

As Dean drove down the road away from Castiel’s house, he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. He cranked up the tunes and drummed along on his steering wheel, head in the clouds as he drove from place to place. Man, Cas was… he was cute. Which was a weird way to describe a guy that was older than him, 32 to Dean’s 26, but he really was kinda just… cute. The dorky professor thing was a huge turn on and he was a genuinely nice guy, which made it comfortable to be around him.

He looked like the kind of guy that would plan cheesy dates like picnics at the park, or a freakin’ museum or something. He looked like the kind of guy that would show up to a date with flowers in his hand, opening doors and pulling out chairs and all sorts of lame shit nice guys do on regular dates. Stuff regular people do. Not that Dean wanted all that corny crap, but if he did… Cas seemed like the kind of guy that would do it. Not that he deserved anything like that anyway.

It didn’t take long for Dean’s good mood to wear off. Happiness wasn’t something he got to feel for long. It’s not that he didn’t feel happiness… shit, sometimes he found himself fucking delighted at some of the simplest things in life. Like speeding down the highway blasting Zepplin or stopping at a field somewhere and leaving some Floyd on while he laid in the grass and stared up at the clouds. But most of the time he found that he either felt depressed… or not _that_ depressed. A moment of happiness really didn’t last too long before it sort of just… faded, often leaving him feeling even worse off than before.

His mind kept sliding back to the night before. That awkward moment when Cas had pushed him away and told him to back off. _Stupid, so fucking stupid._ Why did he think he could just force himself on him like that? _Because everybody expects sex from you, you dumb slut._ The thoughts cut into him like a knife. He knew it was true though. Nobody really cared about him, they cared about what he would do for them. Usually it was sex. Nobody just did nice things without expecting something in return. Cas wasn’t like that though, he realized that last night.

He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t an idiot. Not a slut. He didn’t ruin everything. Cas didn’t hate him. But as the day wore on his mood only got worse. No one was hiring. No one. After a while it was hard not to think of himself as a complete failure. When someone offered to pay him for some quick heavy lifting work, he had to take it. By the end of the day all he had to show for all his driving around was a new ID and enough left over for gas and maybe dinner, or at least a few drinks.

He felt pathetic. _You’ve always been pathetic._ He gripped the steering wheel tightly and told his brain to shut up. A gnawing feeling was growing inside of him. How stupid must he have looked, dangling over the edge of that bridge? Like someone who had completely lost control of his life. Someone who just couldn’t fucking handle it, like everyone else did. He cranked up the radio and sang along loudly to Guns and Roses. Keep his mind busy, push the negative thoughts away, drown them in the music.

He drove around aimlessly, knowing there was nowhere else for him to go. It was dark, he wouldn’t find work today. He looked down at his phone while at a traffic light. He debated with himself then scowled and pushed his phone into his pocket angrily. _I must have looked so pathetic. Needing Cas to stay with me, making him take care of me._ It was getting worse, and he was too tired to do anything about it. His mind kept flashing back to the bridge. How his mind went blank as soon as he climbed over and looked below.

_I need a fucking drink._

He pulled into the parking lot of a dimly lit dive bar with a flickering red neon light that read _Original Prankster_ and figured it looked like a good enough place to end the night before getting some miserable sleep in the back of his car.

He plopped himself down at the far end of the bar, ordering himself a cheap beer and a bowl of bar peanuts for dinner. At least he’d have something in his stomach for the night.  

He sat by himself, looking around at the almost empty bar, just watching people distractedly. Especially the hot bartender, an Indian woman with wavy black hair and dark skin, wearing a bright red dress and an attitude that told him she didn’t take shit from any customers.

By the time he was on his second beer he was starting to feel a little better. The steady stream of self- loathing was still there, peppered by the random suicidal thought, but it felt duller, like it was coming from far away and not being yelled at him instead.

He tried to tell himself that it was for the best that nothing happened between him and Cas. Castiel was a good guy and Dean just… wasn’t. He was a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kinda guy and Cas didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t that he was cocky or thought of himself as some kind of stud or something. It was just his natural response to anyone who showed him even the slightest bit of attention. He assumed it was what they wanted anyway. And when somebody wanted him, well he didn’t really know how to say no. Afterward it was easier just to run away than to deal with the aftermath. Sure he felt like trash but it was better than being hurt or hurting someone else. Dean was broken, and being around Cas would only lead to him eventually figuring it out for himself.

No, it was better this way. He had resolved to never see Cas again. He glanced over at the pool table being used by one of the last patrons in the place. If he could scrap together enough cash he could leave town by morning and try again somewhere else. Wasn’t anything for him here anyway.

He knocked back the last of his drink and ordered another, fluffing up his hair and winking at the bartender, who rolled her eyes at him, before making his way over to the pool table.

“Hey man, care for a game?” The other man, who was a little shorter than Dean, looked up from the table.

“You any good?” He asked with a bored expression.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, “I’m alright, name’s Dean.”

The man nodded, straightening up and pulling something out of his pocket, “Gabe,” he unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth, “rack ‘em up partner.”

Dean gathered the pool balls and arranged them inside the triangle, making sure to get a few of them in the wrong place before making a show of correcting himself and then looking as if to confirm that he did it correctly.

“Well, let’s see what you got sunshine.”

He did an abysmal job of breaking, and continued to hold back for the first game, making sure to stay at just under the other guy’s level so that he could give off the impression that he was easy to beat, but not so easy that it was boring to play against him.

He lost the first game, of course, with 4 striped balls still on the table. “Aww man, guess I’m a little rusty.” He knocked back the rest of his beer, shaking his head in defeat. “S’ok, just have to warm up. So uh… what you drinkin’, buddy? Only fair, loser buys the round.”

“That would be a Strawberry Daquiri.” Dean raised his eyebrow at him. “What? I like my drinks to taste good.”

Dean came back with a beer for him and the fruity cocktail for Gabe. The next game continued similarly to the first. Dean continued to hold back, making in a few more lucky shots but letting Gabe beat him again in the end. “Damn, another round it is.” He raised his beer, signaling to the bartender to bring them another round.

The next round was even closer, with them both down to the 8 ball when Dean scratched and lost the game. “Damn man, I should just be giving you the money directly at this point. What do you say, five bucks a ball?” He threw out the bet as casually as he could, making sure to sway slightly to show that his decisions were being affected by the alcohol.

Gabe gave him a disbelieving look and dean almost thought he would call him out. But then he shrugged, “I’m game.”

It was time to switch things up a bit. They had another close game, Dean still holding back to play at the same level as Gabe until they were both down to the 8 ball again. This time Dean made it in. “Wooh! Finally got one over on ya, didn’t I?!”He cheered, pumping his fist in the air and making a great big show of being an obnoxious drunk. “All right, told ya I just needed a warm up. I’m in the zone now!”

“Yeah, yeah… alright you got me on that one. Another?” Gabe asked, eyebrow raised.

“Hell yeah, ready to get your ass kicked again?” Dean slurred cockily.

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?” Gabriel challenged.

“Shit yeah, twenty-five bucks a ball say’s I got this.” Dean raised his beer and chugged it, sloppily wiping a trail of beer that dribbled down his chin. If the guy was smart he’d see that the odds were in his side. He knew he was better than Dean and he knew Dean was drunk. _Come on, take the fucking bet._

“You got the money to back that up, hot shot?”

“I’m good for it,” Dean answered confidently.

“Alright, you got a deal,” Gabe said after a long pause. He moved to gather the pool balls, racking them up for the next game.

“Uh… I break first, right?” He made sure that it was his turn to break. Not that the con depended on him breaking first, but he just wanted to get it all over with quickly.

Gabe sized him up for a second, but moved out of the way and gestured with his arm, “all yours.”

Suddenly, Dean got super focused. He broke and made in two balls. He heard Gabe make a noise of interest, but he didn’t look up from the table. He easily made in the next three solid balls, one after another. He glanced upwards to see the other man’s face get stony with realization. He angled his shot for the sixth ball, but right when he was about to hit it the jukebox roared to life. _Won’t get fooled again_ by The Who blasted into the bar, the bartender turning back to give him an icy glare when he looked over to see what made him miss his shot.

“Oooh, guess something had to stop that lucky streak though, didn’t it?” Gabe asked, his voice oddly cheery with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Uh yeah,” Dean gulped, licking his lips nervously. _It’s ok, just wait until he misses a shot then finish off the game and collect your winnings._

Dean watched in growing dismay as Gabe made in shot after shot just as perfectly as Dean executed his. His heart continued to race as it dawned on him that the same thing he was going to do to the opposing player was happening to him. His heart sunk completely into his stomach when Gabe called his pocket and sunk the 8 ball in easily.

Gabe walked over to Dean smoothly, cocky smile on his face. “You don’t hustle a hustler, kid.”

Dean’s face fell. He couldn’t believe he actually got hustled. _Him._ Damn, he never even caught on. How could he be so stupid?

Before the panic could set in he put a sheepish smile on his face, hoping he could charm his way out of this. “Yeah, alright you caught me. Gotta teach me some of your tricks, I could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll just collect the money you owe me and we’ll be set.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave him a guilty look, “man, about that…”

“Let me guess,” Gabe said loudly, “the knucklehead who made a four hundred dollar bet and claimed he was ‘good for it,’ may actually not have the money. What a surprise.”

Dean gulped audibly and flashed a wider, more apologetic smile, “ehhh, the uh… knucklehead might be a little short.”

“See now, that’s where the problem is. ‘Cause in my house,” Gabe spread his arms, indicating to the entire bar and Dean realized he must have been the owner, “people who make bets they can’t keep, well… let’s just say they get their just desserts.”

Dean’s eyes darted from Gabe to the front door and back, “You know, this is really just a misunderstanding. I can get you the money, I’ll be right back just give me a….”

A body bumped into him, cutting him off. The bartender from earlier sauntered past him, heels clicking on the floor as she stood next to Gabe with one hand on her hip, the other dangling something in front of her.

“Baby?” He asked, as he patted the pocket of his jacket, heart dropping when he realized his keys weren’t there.

 “Oh Baby won’t be going anywhere, not without these.” She jangled the keys in front of him.

“Kali, what would I do without you?” He exclaimed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You’d fall apart, sweetheart.” She replied, cooly as she passed the keys to him.

“That’s my girl. You know…” he put his hand up to his mouth as if whispering a secret, “she’d tear your head off if you piss her off. And it seems like you’ve gone and pissed her off, Dean.”

Dean put his hands up defensively, “look, I’m sorry. I fucked up, ok. But you gotta cut me a break here, can we work something out?”

“Sure, we keep your car, now get out.”

Dean’s hair instantly stood on end and he thought he felt his heart skip a beat. “What, no! That’s not gonna happen, she’s all I got.”

“Not anymore buck-o. Now scram, before shit gets really messy.”

He didn’t know what the fuck to do. There was no way he was leaving this bar without his car. “You don’t understand, I need my car. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” He said through clenched teeth. After the fact, he realized that he could have just come back, broken in and hotwired her later. Maybe he drank more than he thought he did, maybe it was the empty stomach that did it. But at the moment, he saw red. He lunged at Gabe, tumbling on top of him and landing a punch to the side of his face and then fighting to yank the keys out of his clenched fist.

They tumbled on the floor, Gabe getting a few good hit in when suddenly a sharp pain erupted on the back of his head and he blacked out. Next thing he knew he was on the floor and standing above him was Kali, a broken pool stick in her hands.

"Good, you're not dead." She said coldy, and walked away. Gabe's face had been cleaned up and he barely looked like he'd been in a fight. Dean's head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach. He looked back and forth between them both and made his way outside of the bar, knowing that he was beat. He sat down on the curb and pulled out his phone and a card from his wallet. 

 

* * *

 

“Cas, oh shit man I’m really sorry to do this to you, I really didn't want to but I didn't know who else to call… I’m kind of in trouble and I....fuck, I’m sorry just….can you pick me up….. please.”

He reassured Dean that he would be there shortly and hung up the phone, quickly dialing the number to a taxi service and giving them his address. 15 minutes. That’s how long he would have to wait to be picked up. And then he had to make his way over to the dive bar that Dean told him he was at, without much description as to what his trouble was. He toed on his shoes and grabbed his wallet and coat so he could wait outside for his taxi.

The entire ride to the bar Cas fidgeted in his seat, all sorts of scenarios playing out in his mind. The bar Dean was stranded at wasn’t exactly in a good area of town. In fact it was known for quite a bit of fighting and other unpleasantness. What was Dean even doing there?

He made it to the bar and promptly paid the driver as he hopped out and searched the area for Dean. He was sitting in the alley next to the bar, head in his hands, and a chill ran down Cas’s spine. “Dean?”

Dean looked up and a wave of disgust ran through Cas, his face was swollen and beginning to bruise, his lip split open and caked with dried blood. “Cas?” He said, in a relieved tone.

“Dean, oh my God what happened to you?” He looked around, worried that maybe whoever had jumped him was still around.

Dean stood up, grimacing slightly and cocked his head over to the bar, “got into a little bit of trouble with the owner of the place and uh…” a look of revulsion washed over his face, “might have lost my car in a bet.”

 _What?_ He cocked his head curiously at Dean. _There’s no way..._ His thoughts trailed off as he stomped his way inside of the bar.

Gabe, who was at the bar with his girlfriend Kali, turned around slowly, “I thought I told you to…” he stopped and stared at Cas with a look of confusion. “Hey there baby bro,” Gabe said slowly, “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“The man outside of the bar, Dean. Did you beat him up and take his car, _because of a bet?”_ His eyes were narrowed in ager and disbelief. His knew his brother could be rough around the edges but this was absurd.

Kali spoke up in his defense. “He came in here making bets he couldn’t keep. Someone had to teach him a lesson.”

“Right, doll.” Gabe agreed and looked at him suspiciously, “and uh… how exactly do you know the little hustler, Castiel?”

“He’s my… friend.” Cas hesitated slightly and his ears tinged with pink.

A knowing smile spread on Gabe’s face, “Oh I see. So you’ve come here to defend your boy toy then, eh?”

“Gabe…” Cas said with warning in his tone.

“Ok, ok… well if you think I’m giving the car back you’re wrong. Fucker owes me about four hundred dollars.”

“Four hundred? And you take his car? Gabriel how is that fair? That car costs way more than that!” Cas was outraged, his brother was ridiculous.

“Look he came in here to hustle _me,_ ok. So I figured I’d teach him a lesson.” Gabe smirked.

Cas rolled his eyes and sat down at the bar with an exasperated sigh. Kali dropped a gin and tonic in front of him and walked away to let them talk. “Gabe, I believe we can work something out. He doesn’t have money and he needs a job. Instead of taking his car, let him work off the money that he owes you.” He looked around and scrunched his nose in disgust, “this place could use some maintenance you know.” Gabe raised an eyebrow at him. “I can vouch for him. He’s a good guy, he’s just going through a rough time. Come on, I’m sure you could relate.”

“ _Fine_ ” Gabe said exasperatedly, “Monday, have him come in. I’ll put him to work.” He pointed an accusing finger at Cas, “But if anything goes wrong, it’s on you little bro.”

Cas nodded, “agreed.” He finished his drink and stood up. “Thank you, Gabe.”

“Just be careful Castiel, don’t let your heart get broken by another good looking douchebag with his head up his ass or I’ll have to make sure his face ain’t so pretty anymore.” Gabe warned as Cas walked out.

“I think you’ve done enough, Gabe. Thank you.” He found Dean outside, still in the same spot and helped him up.

“What happened in there?” Dean asked.

“I negotiated with him. You’ll be working your debt off  doing maintenance for the bar and then you’ll have your car returned to you.” He was looking down at his phone as he talked, pulling up the number for the taxi service and ordering another cab to pick them up.

When he finished with the call Dean was still staring at him in disbelief. “What? What do you mean you negotiated? How did you… _what?”_

Cas smiled, “I simply negotiated. Aren’t you glad you’ll be getting your car back?”

Dean sputtered, “I mean, shit yeah… but… the guy was a grade A dickbag, how did you even do that?”

He leaned over with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow, “I think I know how to talk to my brother, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw literally dropped and Castiel had to hold back his laughter.

“ _That_ was your _brother?!”_  Dean exclaimed, as the sound of gravel crunching under tires alerted them that their cab was there.

“Yes, that was Gabriel, I’ll explain on the ride home.”

For a second it looked like Dean was going to decline, but then thought better of it. He spent the entire ride still in disbelief at how weirdly the universe worked at times.

By the time they got to his home Dean was still apologizing. For having to call Castiel, for getting into a fight with his brother, for needing to be saved, and then for needing a place to stay after Castiel offered up his couch until Dean was able to get back on his feet.

“I’m just not used to someone taking care of me like this.” Dean told him, his eyes wide and sad like a puppy that had been left out in the rain. “Hustling and taking care of myself, it’s how I’ve always done it.” He continued.

“Dean, I really don’t mind you staying.” He repeated, for the umpteenth time that night, “but if it really bothers you that much, I do have a way for you to repay me.”

Dean’s face took on a sick color and he wondered what crossed his mind, thinking it better if he just showed Dean what he was thinking of. He took Dean by the hand and walked him to the garage, flicking on the light and revealing a Gold 1978 Lincoln Continental.

“Woah, this pimpmobile yours?” He asked as he ran his hands along the hood, walking around the car and giving it a good look.

“Yup, seems to be something wrong with it but I’m not really sure what. That’s why I’ve been walking everywhere lately.”

“Huh” Dean said, opening the hood and peering inside, “thought you were some kind of environmentalist nut who cared about your carbon footprint or something.”

Cas laughed, “nope just didn’t feel like spending a ton of money to fix it.”

Dean tinkered around with the engine for a bit, then looked up. “Yeah, I can fix this. No problem.” He smiled genuinely at Cas and his face brightened up.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, suggestions, corrections, criticisms...all appreciated. I don't know how many chapters this will be or how often I'll update but I'll try my best =)


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